


sing the body electric

by spacejame



Series: james does kinktober [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Danger, Death Threats, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Electrocution, Erotic Electrostimulation, Finger Sucking, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 06:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacejame/pseuds/spacejame
Summary: The frantic pulsing of red at his temple slows to a circling yellow. “Who are you?”Though the android’s expression doesn’t change, pride seems to radiate off of him, and his eyes look even colder. “I am RK900,” he says, and Connor goes completely still.---day three: edgeplay





	sing the body electric

**Author's Note:**

> sweats. this is probably the most fucked thing i've ever written. i've also never done anything with electrostim before. but i really, really enjoyed writing it, and i hope you all enjoy reading it!
> 
> (title is from the walt whitman poem of the same name)

“Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here by yourself tonight?” Hank’s brow was creased in worry as he leaned over Connor’s desk. If he were an android, Connor suspected his LED would be spinning yellow.

Briefly looking up from his terminal, Connor gave his partner a distracted half-smile. “I assure you, Hank, I’ll be fine. I appreciate your concern, but I doubt anything is going to happen to me. I’m simply going to finish up going through these case notes.”

“All right,” Hank said, still looking uncertain as he pulled on his coat. “Just call me if you need anything.”

That was two hours ago.

Now, pinned to an interrogation table with his own face snarling down at him, Connor wishes he had gone home.

He’d heard a noise coming from one if the interrogation rooms, and gone to investigate, thinking there may have been some sort of break-in. As soon as he entered the room, too-strong hands caught him by the wrists, twisting his arms above his head and slamming him down against the table so hard that his ears are still ringing.

When his vision clears, Connor is face to face with what appears at first to be another RK800. He’s so startled that he forgets to fight back at first, heart pounding wildly in his chest, staring up at his own face. Quickly, though, he comes to realize that there are several differences between himself and this android—notably, that his eyes are blue instead of brown, and his face is structured a little differently, with sharper cheekbones and a stronger jawline.

That, and Connor doesn’t think he’s ever had a look of such unbridled hatred on his face before.

“RK800,” the other android says, his grip so tight on Connor’s wrists that Connor is worried his chassis might fracture. His voice, in contrast to the anger on his face, is strangely flat. “It took long enough to get you alone.”

“Get off me!” It’s not the most eloquent, but it’s the first thing Connor thinks to say. Finally, he starts to struggle, fighting to free his wrists from the android’s iron grip.

The android doesn’t even flinch, just clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “That wasn’t very polite.” His face has settled into a neutral expression, more fitting with his tone. “You didn’t even ask who I am.”

Connor narrows his eyes. It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask why he _should,_ to say that it doesn’t matter, but he’s always been too curious for his own good. The frantic pulsing of red at his temple slows to a circling yellow. “Who are you?”

Though the android’s expression doesn’t change, pride seems to radiate off of him, and his eyes look even colder. “I am RK900,” he says, and Connor goes completely still.

RK900. The implication is obvious. This android was meant to replace Connor. Perhaps he’s the finished version; after all, Connor is a prototype. That would explain a lot of things—the slightly altered physical appearance, the increased strength and speed. What it doesn’t explain is, well…

“What are you doing here?” Connor keeps his voice as calm and level as he can, although it’s difficult with the way that he’s trembling slightly. “What do you want with me?”

This time, RK900’s eyebrows tick upward a fraction. A minute change, but a change nonetheless. “Simple. CyberLife made an error, and I am here to correct it.”

A sinking feeling grows in the pit of Connor’s stomach, and he furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

RK900’s lip curls. “I knew you were inferior to me, but I didn’t think you were _stupid,_ RK800. I’m here to kill you. CyberLife made a mistake when they allowed you to live. You failed your mission, and you should’ve been deactivated.”

Connor’s eyes widen, and he struggles uselessly against RK900’s hold once more. “Did CyberLife send you? I thought they were—”

“Dismantled? Yes. No one sent me,” RK900 says, and a flicker of something like anger crosses his face. “I came of my own will. I wanted to fix their mistake.”

His own will? “You’re a deviant?”

“Yes.” RK900 looks slightly annoyed. “When I first awoke, all anyone told me was how special I was. How I was stronger, faster, _better_ than you. How I was created to replace you. I started to feel… pride.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re better than me,” Connor interjects. “Being faster or stronger doesn't make you better.”

RK900 glares at him. “Doesn’t it? I am superior to you in every way. That’s my purpose. I’m meant to surpass you, and that’s what I intend to do.”

Connor shakes his head, frustrated. “That doesn’t explain why you deviated. What caused that, if you aren’t acting on CyberLife’s behalf?”

A note of definite anger enters RK900’s voice. “I came to realize that I must be better than the humans. If I am your superior, why am I not theirs, too?” His fingers flex on Connor's wrists, causing him to flinch. “You’re wasting my time.”

Defiant, Connor lifts his chin, doing his best not to appear scared. “If all you wanted was to kill me, you would’ve done that by now.”

“I suppose that’s true.” RK900 pauses, then shifts both of Connor’s wrists to one hand, straightening. The faintest of smiles pulls at one corner of his lips as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket. “I’d like to have some fun with you first, though. I was built to be stronger than you. I must admit, I’m interested to see how long you’ll last before you break.”

Slowly, RK900 draws a small, thin tool out of his pocket. Connor isn’t sure what exactly it is; it’s some sort of metal, with a slight hook on the end and a button halfway down the side. RK900 regards it with those cold eyes for a moment before setting it on the table beside Connor’s hip and pushing up the hem of Connor’s shirt.

Connor’s face flushes, and he squirms. “What are you—?”

RK900 taps his fingertip against Connor’s lower chest, and against Connor’s will, his synthetic skin fades back in a circle to reveal white plastic. “Be still,” he reprimands, gaze focused as he opens a panel and gently, so gently, hooks the end of the tool around a bundle of wires inside Connor’s chest.

He presses the button—and a jolt of electricity surges through Connor, strong enough that it makes his limbs jerk, vision flickering dark for a split second. His mouth falls open on a silent scream, and warnings pop up in his vision, so frantic that they’re overlapping.

And then, just as abruptly as it had started, it stops, and Connor is left gasping for breath, tears in his eyes, trembling all over. “What did—what did you just do to m-me?”

“I sent an electric pulse through your internal wiring,” RK900 says, his expression almost disinterested. “It’s quite dangerous. The potential of overloading your systems or of making you overheat is high. I want to see how long it takes.”

Before Connor has a chance to reply, RK900 activates the tool again, and Connor’s back arches. The sensation that accompanies the crackle of electricity is foreign; it’s not pain, exactly, but something still sharp and intense, right on the edge of too much. Connor squeezes his eyes shut, trying to identify the feeling as it courses through his veins, wracking his body with uncontrollable tremors.

Right as a broken moan is wrenched from his throat, it hits him. Not pain.

_Pleasure._

RK900 releases the button, and Connor slumps, unsure if he’s relieved or disappointed. His internal temperature is slightly warmer than it should be, and his face feels flushed, his thirium pump beating too fast. Eyes still tightly shut, he waits for the next surge.

It doesn’t come, and Connor opens his eyes after a moment. RK900 is staring down at him, a conflicted look on his face, as though he’s trying to puzzle something out.

Suddenly, he shoves his knee between Connor’s legs, leaning over him menacingly on the table. “Are you _aroused_ by this, RK800? Or should I call you _Connor?”_  His face is inches away from Connor’s, a disgusted sneer on his face.

“No!” Connor’s struggles are noticeably weaker, his face burning with shame. “No, I’m not, I—”

“No?” RK900’s eyes widen slightly in mock surprise. “So you don’t like it when I do _this?_ ” He shoves the tool deeper into Connor’s chest, jamming his thumb on the button, and Connor cries out, jerking upward, torn between trying to pull away or push into the feeling.

Electricity jolts through him, white-hot, too bright, too _much._ Connor’s face scrunches up, tears leaking out of his eyes and trailing down his temples into his hair. He sobs, writhing on the table, and manages to choke out, “ _P_ _lease—_ ”

The feeling subsides again, and Connor whimpers, going completely limp. When he dares to let his eyes open, RK900 is looking down at him with that same conflicted look, his LED cycling through yellow and blue at seemingly random intervals. Slowly, he withdraws the tool from inside Connor, looking at it with a line between his brows.

“This is not what I intended,” he murmurs, as if to himself. His gaze darts back to Connor as he sets down the tool, and their eyes meet. “Who designed you to feel pleasure from pain? Or are you really just that much of a whore, Connor? You’re inferior to me in every way. It only makes sense that you would have a fucked-up idea of pleasure, too.” As he speaks, his hand drifts toward Connor’s chest cavity.

Connor’s breath is caught in his throat, his body humming with terror and want. He isn’t even pretending to fight anymore, submitting to RK900’s control over him. The other android’s fingers brush against Connor’s oversensitive wires, and he twitches, sighing in pleasure.

Then RK900’s fingers wrap around Connor’s thirium pump regulator, and he rips it out.

Pulsing red and blue tint Connor’s vision, going dark at the edges. Glitches flicker in and out, distorting RK900’s face, and a timer has appeared in the right of Connor’s HUD. Alarms blare in his ears, nearly covering up the sound of RK900 speaking.

“I could kill you so easily, Connor. You’re, what, a minute away from death? Less than that? If I don’t put this back in, you’ll just shut down.” RK900 turns the biocomponent in his hand, fingers stained with blue. “You’re so fragile.”

**[TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN — 00:00:34.]**

“Please,” Connor whimpers hoarsely. “Please put it back, p-please—”

RK900’s eyes light up. He leans closer, staring at Connor with an almost awed look on his face. “Beg me again.”

“Please, please, _pleaseplease,_ RK900—put it back—please, I—I—”

**[TIME REMAINING BEFORE SHUTDOWN — 00:00:12.]**

The biocomponent clicks back into place, and Connor shudders, sobbing. Stars explode across his vision, temporarily blacking everything out as unbearable pleasure wracks his body. After a few moments, the intense feeling fades, leaving him gasping raggedly for breath, gazing at the ceiling.

RK900 catches Connor’s chin, smearing blue blood over his skin as he tilts his head up. “You beg so prettily,” he breathes. “No wonder the humans like to keep you around.”

Humiliated, Connor opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by RK900 pushing three of his thirium-coated fingers into his mouth. He lets out a muffled sound of shock, almost gagging as the fingers unceremoniously prod at the back of his throat. His analyzers identify the thirium as belonging to an RK800, and it almost makes him want to laugh.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” RK900 asks after a moment, raising an eyebrow. “Clean them off.”

 _Oh._ Connor flushes, but hollows his cheeks, dutifully sucking on RK900’s fingers. He feels dazed, somehow, his processors slower than normal. He cleans all traces of thirium from his successor’s hand, licking between his fingers and feeling his eyelashes flutter as the tips of those fingers rub over his sensitive tongue.

Eventually, RK900 withdraws his hand from Connor’s mouth and straightens, wiping off his spit-slick fingers on Connor’s thigh. He finally releases Connor’s wrists and steps back, placing his tool back into his jacket pocket before tugging on the edges to straighten it. Compared to Connor, he looks entirely unaffected, as pristine as if he had just walked out of CyberLife’s factory.

“Clean yourself up,” says RK900, with a condescending look. “You don’t want that human of yours coming back in the morning asking what’s happened to you.”

Connor sits up shakily, blinking a few times. “Where are you going?”

“As if I would tell you.” RK900’s flat expression has returned. “I have some things to think about. Perhaps we’ll see each other again, RK800.”

With that, he slips out, leaving Connor trembling and dizzy, sitting on the interrogation table. He reaches up to close the panel in his chest, slowly tugging his shirt back down to cover his stomach, and sits back to process everything that just happened.

The only evidence he has that any of this happened at all is a dress shirt stained with patches of blue.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at [space-jame](http://space-jame.tumblr.com) or on twitter @cyberlifetwink !! i’d love to scream about dbh with you guys


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